


Cheeky

by Choke-a-Bro (Vanya_Deyja)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Oneshot, Status Effects, crack and fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:00:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26612614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanya_Deyja/pseuds/Choke-a-Bro
Summary: Noctis and the boys are dirty and exhausted. Tensions are high. But, of course, things could always get worse.A prince, a wayward status effect.... it's a story as old as time.
Comments: 33
Kudos: 131





	Cheeky

It’s been a shitty couple of days. Noctis has, more than once, loudly proclaimed Ignis is _‘on his period_ ’ given his obsessive attitude towards their finances. Ignis is a calm, sensible, man but Prompto has seen a strange expression on his face as of late and he’s starting to suspect its handsome retainer for _‘if you weren’t my prince I would deck you right now’_.

Things have been tense, to say the least.

They cleared out the Balouve Mines in Leide and that took a lot out of them but Ignis is insistent they do not dip into their funds for a hotel room until they’ve sold their wares at Lestallum for the highest possible profit. They’re not short on money, not really. They’ve been tighter before. But Ignis would clearly be more comfortable if they didn’t reward themselves till he’s got the gil in their pockets.

It’s a reasonable request in some ways and Gladio, always keen to support Mum-Friend in his designated role as Dad-Friend, keeps telling Noctis to suck it up for a few more days.

But Prompto also understands where Noctis is coming from. They’ve been camping for days and after exerting themselves so much in that fierce fucking dungeon they’re dirty and smelly in a way changing into clean clothes doesn’t totally fix. Noctis, more than anything, wants a bath and if you told Prompto he could have one he’d probably eat a four day old hotdog.

When, at the end of the week, they’re waylaid again out towards the Longwythe rest area Noctis is clearly unhappy. It becomes apparent they’re not going to make it to Lestallum tonight after they finish running these errands and Prompto begins to suspect a royal tantrum is on the horizon.

Noctis is a pretty chill guy. Moody, sure, but he doesn’t like to pull rank unless he absolutely has to. This? This is testing his patience something chronic.

“It’s alright,” Ignis tries to soothe as they head back to the Reglia. “When we reach Longwythe we’ll get the caravan for the night and you can sleep. It’ll only be a short trip to Lestallum tomorrow.”

But Ignis has been saying _‘tomorrow’_ for three days and Prompto catches a flash of indignation cross Noctis’ features like lightning splashing the distant horizon. There’s a storm coming, as Cid might say.

Prompto swallows.

He’s about to say something. He never wins arguments with Ignis but he feels like he should try and plead their case before Noctis explodes across the leather interior of the Regalia.

But Prompto doesn’t get a chance to say anything.

Because daemons.

 _Joy_. 

“Mother fucking—“ Noctis whips out his engine blade.

“Think of it as a chance to blow off some steam, Princess.” Gladio teases, broadsword sizzling into his fingers with a tug at the armiger.

Noctis kicks Gladio in the shins, rough and quick, and Gladio is just realising what happened as Noctis warps away to start swinging.

“Oi!” He hollers. “You stinking little—”

“Take it out on these guys!” Noctis sings back, slamming his engine blade into a rib cage a fraction too aggressively.

“I think we need family therapy,” Prompto jokes.

“More shooting less quipping.” Ignis orders.

They’re tired, they’re grumpy, but fundamentally? They still kick ass.

The battle is starting to turn in their favour, the last few stragglers dying down, when one of the daemons slashes at Noctis. He hisses, clutching his side, and as the thing turns it rears up its hind legs kicking Noctis backwards. Their prince slams back a few feet, head jerking, skidding and slumping into the dirt.

Like the well trained soldiers they are Gladio slices the daemon open and Ignis skids across the patchy grass to tend to Noctis immediately. Prompto takes two shots to finish off the remaining daemon and hurries over.

“Noct,” Ignis hisses, groping Noctis’ skull delicately. “Noct, wake up. Come on.”

Ignis always sounds a little fretful and desperate when Noctis is hurt.

Gladio forces Prompto out of the way and curls Noctis’ first around a vial of cure. Noctis gasps, lurching up on reflex, but he starts to slump back and Ignis catches him against his chest readily.

“Noct, Highness,” Ignis frets still feeling the back of his skull, “did you hit your head?”

“Ugh…” Noctis presses the heel of his palm against the bridge of his nose and tries to steady himself. “Where…?”

“Noct?” Ignis whispers gently.

“Where’m I…?” Noctis slurs.

Ignis’ gaze flashes to Gladio and the Shield freezes like six feet of petrified stone.

“Highness,” Ignis becomes very serious, “look at me.”

Noctis lifts his head groggily. “Huh…?”

“How many fingers am I holding up?” Ignis asks, raising his hand.

“Three.” Noctis mumbles.

“And what day of the week is it?”

“Uh…” Noctis frowns, thinking hard. “Um… I don’t know?”

“Do you know what year it is?” Ignis continues.

“No,” Noctis admits weakly. “I… Um… where am I…?”

“Gladio,” Ignis grunts.

“On it,” Gladio flies into action, securing two big arms around Noctis and heaving him up. “Can you walk, Princess?”

“Dude, I’m a guy,” Noctis slurs.

“I’m just going to carry you back to the car, okay?” Gladio sighs, slipping his arm under Noctis’ knees and hefting him up fully into his arms.

“Okay,” Noctis mumbles.

Prompto feels his heart start to pound.

Did Noctis hit his head? Or was it a status effect from that daemon?

“Prompto,” Ignis glances, “take a photo of the daemon for me. In case we need the Marshall to identify it. Then hurry to the car, yes?”

“Right away Iggy,” Prompto promises, swinging into action.

When Prompto reaches the Regalia a few moments later Gladio is rifling through the trunk for their remedies. Ignis is in the back seat with Noctis, his head against his shoulder, obviously trying to keep him calm. Maybe keep himself calm too.

“Any luck, Gladio?” Ignis calls.

“We’re all out of fucking remedies,” Gladio swears. “ _Fuck_.”

“It’s alright,” Ignis tells them all. “Prompto, come sit with Noctis for a moment. I’ll check too.”

“I checked!” Gladio grumbles defensively.

“Gladio, don’t take this the wrong way,” Ignis eases out of the car, “but you look like a man.”

Gladio huffs through his nostrils and climbing into the Regalia Prompto lets Noctis lean against him. The elder two are murmuring, trading fond insults, as Prompto pets Noctis’ hair.

“Are you okay, buddy?” He murmurs, hand falling to rub up and down Noctis’s arm.

Noctis lifts his head and—

Noctis _smirks_ at him.

Prompto fumbles, mouth opening and closing stupidly, and—

Noctis lifts a finger to his mouth and makes a shushing motion.

Oh Ignis is going to be _pissed_.

“Ugh…” Ignis groans. “Nothing…”

“It, uh…” Prompto tries to find his words without laughing. “It could just be a bad case of Confusion, guys. You know? Like a status effect?”

“You’re probably right,” Ignis slouches back around towards them.

“Status effects pass in a few hours, right?” Prompto soothes.

“True,” Ignis sighs.

Noctis pinches Prompto’s hip under the hem of his shirt.

“M-maybe we should go curl up in a hotel for the night?” Prompto says the magic words. “I know it’s not ideal but it’s probably safer than a caravan and if it’s a toxin we can wash it off?”

“Well…” Ignis actually seems to be considering it now.

“If Princess isn’t himself it might be for the best,” Gladio rues.

“Alright, you’re both right,” Ignis nods decisively. “Prompto why don’t you stay in the back with him? Gladio do you mind driving? I’m a little rattled.”

“Yeah, of course, I got you Iggy.” Gladio promises.

Prompto bites the inside of his mouth and as the elder retainers trade the car keys he whispers into Noctis’s hair, as fond as he can manage without bursting into laughter;

“You’re such a troublemaker.”

He can feel Noctis grinning like a Cheshire cat against his neck.

“Ugh…” Noctis mumbles, “sticky…”

“We’ll get a room with a bath, Darling,” Ignis assures as he closes the passenger side door.

If Prompto reveals this conspiracy now he’ll be in trouble too. Maybe it’s best just to play along?

Just this once.


End file.
